Edition #001
Open Category
First Thing by Amelie Chadwick
the sleepers by Hattie Rickwood
Spotlight: Eco-catastrophe
Breaking News by Amelie Chadwick
These Are the Things You Think About Before You Freeze to Death Outside of the Shell Station by Marylewis Phillipps
Puthi by Naomi Pandey
Seagull by Naomi Pandey
Letter from the Editor
Written by
Joseph Hamilton
Editor in Chief
Dear reader, I want to get you up to speed. Three years into Boundby, innumerable joys and concerns have arisen as to what it means to operate and curate an online poetry magazine. When we (the editorial team) were still in our second year of undergraduate study at the University of Warwick, the idea of a magazine was put to us. Lacking the attention we so desperately needed and felt our poems deserved, we began to run with the premise of “making space”…
First Thing
and one other poem by Amelie Chadwick
DIAL TONE / So -
Mercury is shoved in on the coffee shop shelf next to Innocence, right,
And the stranger in the queue didn’t sleep ‘til three.
Willowbrook potatoes in the supermarket look like the hands
…
the sleepers
by Hattie Rickwood
taste the crumbling earth, the rich soil of this land, as I claw it up with craze-cracked nails and grasp it in my hands
see, my fingers turn to roots
burying deep into the dark depths, tracing
…
Puthi
and one other poem by Naomi Pandey
As soon as I was born, I’d begun to race. Race past brethren, parents, and then, children. Eat or be eaten. Hah! You could say I’ve been roughed up. My home is the same as the sky above, adorned with clouds, but in this realm, there is only one Sun, the one up above. My uncle used to tell me this world
…
Poetic Responses to Eco-catastrophe
Written by
Laura van Diesen
Editor at Boundby
In my local aquarium, there is a model of the earth illuminated by a projector. At seven, it was my first glance into eco-catastrophe. When you turn a dial to the left, the projector shows our continents travelling back in time to make one green land mass: 200 Million Years Ago. When you turn it to the right, this land scatters as the dates rise: 2006, until a sea of blue light begins to seep…
These Are the Things You Think About Before You Freeze to Death Outside of the Shell Station
by Marylewis Phillipps
1. The ice has frozen in sheets over the pavement, forming ugly, glassy panes that barely crack under the heel of your boot, but the snow is still beautiful, even lumped into three feet of sediment and frost.
2. There is no snow in Bayou La Batre, where you were bred and beaten into the young man you are today— just soft earth and potholes. You spent summers filling them in with the brother who hates you, waging a guerilla war against the asphalt until your shirts were rich with sweat.
3. Holding a slip of gum in your mouth before it went soggy. You spat it into the grass before worrying the gnatcatcher would peck too close to the sodden clot of sugar. It hopped away.
4. Going home, dead tired and hungry.